


Melancholy

by Tranquil_Tevine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Musical References, Other, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tranquil_Tevine/pseuds/Tranquil_Tevine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry isn't having the best day. However, the last person he expects helps change his life for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melancholy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my second fic. I'm in no way a regular poster and if I did decide to do a full length fic, I would finish it before I ever posted. This is different from my first one and I hope that I've improved a little. I'm not the best at summaries or titles...
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my freedom to write, though most likely that too is owned by someone.
> 
> I hasten to add it's not slash, at most it's a friendship. Possible OOC.
> 
> A few swear words, nothing to stress out over though!
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy this, if so, please feel free to leave a review! I won't bite ;)

Make the sadness go away

Come back another day

For years I've tried to teach

But their eyes are empty

Empty, too, I have become

For them, I must die

A sad and troubled race

An ungrateful troubled place

 

Living, Existing. Being. What was the point? Harry sat precariously on the edge of the astronomy tower, legs swinging back and forth, making a dull ringing sound as his feet hit the railing. Seemingly, without a care in the world. The opposite couldn't be truer.

 

Behind the mask, if those concerned would care to look, is a broken young man. Though only the age of 15, he has experienced what most haven't. He has eyes that have seen too much, an old soul trapped in the body of a teenager, who has the weight of the world on his shoulders and can take no more, like a stack of books. Inevitably, if you keep adding a book, it will topple and fall. Fall, revealing what he'd never intended to show...

 

The real Harry. But no one, not even his closest friends, sees that. Ron views him as his pathway into the easy life, the road to glory and fame. Hermione believes that he can't progress in life without her supervision, that she has to watch constantly over him, check that homework is done. He doesn't need a babysitter, contrary to popular belief.

 

The Wizarding world as a whole looks to him as their saviour. Pure, innocent, brave, untouched. All words to describe that of a typical hero. If only they knew...

 

Dumbledore uses him as his weapon, expendable and with no feelings, who would willingly sacrifice himself for the good of their world and for the light.

 

Sirius. Unconsciously, Harry gave a deep sigh. All Sirius sees is a carbon copy of his father, who loves to play pranks. At first, during their conversations, Harry didn't mind when Sirius slipped up and accidentally called him James, as 12 years in Azkaban was bound to mess up your thoughts. However, it was becoming more frequent. Secretly, it angered Harry. Fearing the backlash he would receive by voicing his opinion, Harry stayed quiet, the pain in his eyes flashing momentarily before the mask of indifference was back up. Remus didn't do anything to stop that from happening either.

 

The Dursleys. What more could he say? They loathed every fibre of his being. If his cupboard under the stairs for a bedroom didn't show that, then perhaps the lack of food and beatings gave it away.

 

Snape. They hated each other, plain and simple. Harry had some measure of respect for him, though. What he went through daily as a double spy must take its toll. He never put Harry on a pedestal or expected great things from the boy who lived. Yes, he may hate him purely because he looks like his father, but at least he is honest with his hate and doesn't try to overdose you with lemon drops and tell you barely half truths like Dumbledore.

 

No one cared. His parents might have once loved him all those years ago, but no amount of wishing on his part would ever bring them back.

 

No one would miss him up here. Right now, everyone must be in The Great Hall, eating. The tower was often sought after by couples in the throes of lust on the weekends, but on a Thursday evening, he won't be disturbed.

 

Why couldn't anyone understand that he was his own person? He'd never gone through remotely similar experiences to his father, yet everyone made comparisons between himself and James. Snape's pensive memory made him feel horrible. That his father could be such a bully...like Dudley. He wanted to apologise to the man on behalf of his father, however, he fled the room in fear of a severe head injury what with a jar of cockroaches narrowly missing him. Deep down, he wishes they had hit him. Maybe he wouldn't have woken up to deal with the pain.

 

Occasionally, he wants someone to find him, discover who he really is. It was foolish to hope. Snape probably believed that he gloated to his friends about the memory, but he would never share something so private, something which resonated within him, a memory which he could understand all too well, being bullied himself.

 

He wasn't sure how much longer he could fool everyone, as gullible as the wizarding world are.

 

Harry let out a humourless laugh. He kept up his masks so often, that sometimes he didn't know who he truly was.

 

One secret which Harry held close to his chest, was that he loved to sing. From a young age while doing the endless number of chores which the Dursleys, and he uses the words loosely 'oh so kindly' set him to work on, You would find a skinny, young boy with bright green eyes, unruly black hair and taped glasses perched on his nose humming or singing whatever came to his mind. It was a way for him to feel in control of himself, forget about how sadness shrouded him like a veil. He was punished for singing, but that never stopped him. Singing was the only joy he had in his life. If he stopped, he may as well cease to exist (not that he didn't feel that way regardless with how he'd been belittled over the years) Eventually, the Dursleys gave up trying to stop him, instead choosing to ignore him.

 

Harry would often practice in abandoned classrooms around Hogwarts, ensuring silencing charms were up and always making sure he had a believable excuse if he was caught. He knew that he would only be discouraged if anyone found out the truth. He praised Neville's name daily for finding the room of requirement. Though Neville was unaware, since he had befriended the boy, he had made sure that the students, Slytherins in particular, didn't get away with bullying said boy without punishment. The same went for Luna. Though he imagined they didn't view him as close a friend as he did them, he'd sent subtle hexes in Malfoy's direction, often ones which would be long lasting, when one wrong word was uttered about the charismatic pair. The Room of Requirement was now his haven. His place to try to gain some measure of control over his emotions. The sadness, he feels is a part of him. Often he would feel numb from the intensity. You could say singing was his line between life and death.

 

Unbidden, a tear slipped from his eye. He slid off the railing gingerly, sinking tiredly to the floor. In an effort to control himself, he continued to sing the haunting melody, which he had heard passing by a group of brooding teenagers. The lyrics were true to him. Each word is as though the song was written for him.

 

“I see the sadness in their eyes

Melancholy in their cries

Devoid of all the passion

The human spirit cannot die

Look at the pain around me

This is what I cry for

Look at the pain around me

This is what I'll die for.”

 

This was true. It is what he cried for, more others than himself. He was never allowed that release awake. God, the nightly visions were the worst thing about being him. Voldemort had been more active recently. The tortured cries of innocents as he and his Death Eaters 'played' with them. Their eyes holding untold amounts of pain, begging for it to stop. Harry, unable to do anything. The visions he suffered with went unheard by his room mates' courtesy of silencing charms. He would have reminders of what he saw through the night, thanks to The Daily Prophet. He would often leave the table without having eaten anything. Yes, this song to him has more meaning than anyone would possibly imagine.

 

He is destined to die to spare others from pain. Sad, that to spare his own pain, he would rather die than live the lie that is his life.

 

He would never sing as openly, emotionally and more importantly, silencing charm free as he is now, but he'd lost his capacity to give a fuck, pardon the French. Harry was tired of living, feeling. He wanted to live for himself. All his life, he had spent it pleasing others, making sure they were happy. He had given all he was willing to give and more, yet he received nothing but abuse in return. If this was the only way he could live, then so be it. Dumbledore has no control over his voice. If he chose to take that way from him then by Merlin he wouldn't let him without a fight.

 

Absent-mindedly, Harry thought he had improved in his singing, what with all the practising he had been doing recently.

 

Fuck his masks. Right now, this was him. There's no turning back.

 

His thoughts were raging.

 

 _'I've never allowed_ to be _selfish, to do something to solely benefit me. It's always been for others. Once, just this once, I'm singing for myself. I want Hogwarts' occupants to feel at least a shade of pain which I do. I want them to know how much I'm suffering. Just this once, I want to be selfish.'_

 

Harry had suspected for a while now that Hogwarts had some measure of sentience. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt...warmer somehow. Like an invisible blanket was dropped around his small frame. An embrace perhaps? He heard whispers in his ear. He couldn't understand what it was saying, but he somehow felt reassured.

 

His face was stiff and cold from tears long dried by the wind. It was always windy in the tower. He felt a brush of lips on his forehead, though there was no one there. That spot thawed a shade of numbness which he bathed himself in. Eyes puffy but resolute, He continued to sing.

 

“Make the sadness go away

Come back another day

The things I've said and done

Don't matter to anyone

But still, you push me to see

Something I can never be

Why am I their shattered king

I don't mean anything.”

 

So lost in the melody was Harry, that he was unaware of the profound effect it was having over the school. As if Hogwarts herself could sense his agony, it began raining heavily within the great hall. Normally, the sky reflects the weather outside. This time, the weather took on a life of its own. Wind started howling. If your ears were tuned, you could hear a voice carried upon it. The great Hall was evacuated while students hurried to their common rooms to dry off, trying to shake the sudden feeling of melancholy. It was as if a dark, depressing cloud was hanging over each individual, not leaving for hours to come. The staff tried to sort the ceiling out, to no avail. All except one member, who heard the haunted voice...

 

“I see the sadness in their eyes

Melancholy in their cries

Devoid of all the passion

The human spirit cannot die

Look at the pain around me

This is what I cry for

Look at the pain around me

This is what I'll die for.”

 

Finishing his song, Harry finally stood up, folding his arms on the railing. Though singing would never permanently banish the dark shroud which covers him, it would at least keep it at bay for a while.

 

Harry had always loved the Astronomy tower, for how peaceful it could be. Up until now, he'd never truly appreciated the beauty from so high up.

 

The sun was setting. He'd never had the chance to be alone and see it. He noticed darkened fluffy clouds rolling by. Surprisingly, he found himself envious.

 

“I wish I was a cloud. They have no troubles in life and can come and go as they please.” Harry put his head in his hands and continued. ”Life would be so simple for me. Alas, not for the precious boy who lived!” He spat.

 

He was unaware he'd spoken aloud. His tone clouded with jealousy, soon turned to self-loathing. His shroud was returning. He'd better head back. Just as he was about to head inside-

 

“Potter?”

 

Harry shut his eyes and tried not to give into the urge of screaming his lungs hoarse, then proceeding to bang his head into the railing until he was rendered unconscious. Taking deep breaths and wiping the perspiration from his brow, he finally felt calm enough to open his eyes.

 

It was Snape. Who knows how long he was stood there for? If he'd been hiding there for a while, then clearly, the game was up.

 

_'Shit...'_

 

When Harry was thrown out of 'Remedial Potions' as a cover for him to learn Occlumency, he dedicated his time to learning the art. Snape barking at him to “Clear his mind!” wasn't the most competent teaching method Harry could think of. A goat in Snape's long, billowing robes bleating at him could've done a more efficient job.

 

Harry's lips twitched. He coughed a little to stifle the snort he wanted to release. So, since he'd been kicked out, Harry had explored the idea of meditating. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to work for him. Because he'd bottled up so much emotion and his memories, they would constantly swirl in his head. He hadn't talked to anyone about them. He was unable to think of anything peaceful, like the book he'd sneaked out of the library, suggested. Instead, he'd created a shield which would hopefully withstand any brush of his mind. The shield was musical. Words from lyrics, notes, even entire songs or the instruments associated with them. The more an intruder would push against the shield, the more reinforced it would become. A collaboration of voices from all genres of music who sing would be used to put the attacker off. He found the growling tones of the band known as Amon Amarth to be sufficiently disturbing enough, as he'd experienced with Dumbledore's scan of his mind. Poor bastard choked on his lemon drop from fright and McGonagall had to do 'The Heimlich manoeuvre' on him. Needless to say, he nearly needed that technique used on him, as he proceeded to choke on his pumpkin juice in turn. Not that Harry didn't like that genre of music, he loved most types which had something individual to offer. He'd gotten that good, in fact, that he could usually keep his shield up without consciously thinking about it.

 

Crossing his fingers, Harry prayed that in this case, his shield didn't fail.

 

Several minutes had passed and neither made a move to speak. Deciding to break the silence, Harry spoke politely, back still turned to Snape.

 

“Good evening professor.”

 

Harry missed the suspicious glance thrown at him.

 

Sneering, Snape spoke.

 

“Potter. Why are you not at the feast? I can't imagine why the boy wonder would want to miss out on his adoring fans lavishing attention upon him”

 

Typical Snape. Snape the Goat. He was proud of himself not bursting into hysterical laughter. No doubt Snape would jump at the chance to reserve him a bed at St Mungos.

 

“As absolutely mind boggling as this might sound, I wanted a break from the hero worship and decided to take my arrogant self on an evening stroll to the Astronomy tower. Why, did you miss me, professor?”

 

An eyebrow was raised.

 

“Hardly. Are you aware that the students had to be evacuated because the Great Hall ceiling decided to produce torrential rain? The Headmaster attempted to put a stop to it, but it continued despite his best efforts.”

 

Harry turned to look at Snape, sporting an incredulous expression.

 

“I had no idea.” He stated. “Does anyone know what caused it?”

 

Snape scrutinised Harry, folding his arms. In turn, Harry averted his eyes, feeling uncomfortable.

 

“No. However, there was a singing voice carried upon the gusts of wind. It sounded like you, Potter. Care to explain?”

 

Harry knew that tone. After 5 years around the man, it was hard not to pick up on his expressions of voice. It was a demand, not a request. Well, looks like the game was up, though It didn't mean to say he was going to spill his guts. If Snape wanted answers, he'd have to dig for them. Trying not to show how alarmed he was, he answered.

 

“Yes, the voice was me. No, I would not care to explain though I know by now I haven't a choice in the matter.”

 

Snape smirked, a hint of amusement showing.

 

“Indeed. Come along potter, I haven't all evening. Some of us have better things to do than wallow in their own self-pity.”

 

Harry felt the barest stirrings of anger at Snape's ignorance. Though seconds later, he deflated. What was the point in getting angry? At the end of the day, it only got him into more trouble and he had enough which followed him, thank you very bloody much.

 

“I felt like singing. There's nothing more to it.”

 

Harry knew Snape wouldn't believe that for a second, but he hoped he would either drop or change the subject. No such luck.

 

“ 5 points from Gryffindor for omitting the truth. Want to know what I think, Potter?”

 

Harry was instantly on guard. None of Snape's opinions on him were positive. It wasn't speculation on his part, it was fact.

 

“No” Harry huffed. “However you'll inform me regardless of what I say.”

 

He could envision Snape rubbing his hands in glee and cracking his knuckles if he didn't want to keep up his greasy bat persona.

 

With an evil glint in his eye, Snape spoke with utter disdain.

 

“I think this was another way to gain attention. Being pampered like a prince at home wasn't good enough to stroke your inflated ego. You had to do something worthy of the Gryffindor golden boy so students and staff alike will sing your praises. You're an attention seeking, dimwitted no good arrogant brat. You're just like your father-”

 

Harry knew Snape's plan. Despite what he seemed to think, Harry actually did have 2 brain cells to rub together. He was attempting to rile him up in order to gain information from him. The Dursleys were good at this and unfortunately, Harry paid for his outbursts of anger. Also, unfortunately, it was starting to work. There would be no shouting and screaming on his part, though. He had neither the energy nor the motivation to do so. It seemed to be the only way for Harry to get some peace.Occlumency really had its benefits in terms of handling his emotions. He tuned back in.

 

“- After snooping around in my pensieve I bet you couldn't wait to tell all your little friends, the mutt and the wolf about how Great your father was, casting Levicorpus so everyone could see Snivellus' underwear, so you can all laugh-”

 

“STOP!” Harry shouted firmly. “Just stop.”

 

Snape did, about to say something else, but before he could-

 

Harry finally moved from his position near the railing, starting to pace up and down before Snape frantically, with hand gestures.

 

“Look, I honestly don't know why The Great Hall ceiling started raining. As for my voice, yes I was singing because I love to sing ok? Is that such a crime, that Harry-Who-Has-Too-Many-Titles-Potter enjoys singing? I've sung from a young age and I have no intention of stopping for anyone. It keeps the sadness at bay for a while, it's my way of coping with what life deals me. Life's a bitch. I wouldn't expect you to understand what I've been through or even care, for that matter.”

 

Harry paused momentarily to breathe.

 

“Another thing. You claim I'm arrogant and spoiled. I'm not. The Dursleys hate me just as much and if not more than you do. They treat me like shit. If you call having a cupboard as your bedroom 'pampered' then you need help. I know you won't believe me as you see what you want to, and not me. So I won't bring that up. I came here for peace and quiet, I came here because I'm not sure how much longer I can carry on like this.”

 

He stopped and stared Snape directly in the eye. He wanted to express how much he was telling the truth on this.

 

“I'm sorry for looking in your pensieve. I thought it would contain information which Dumbledore had been hiding from me. I didn't know how to remove myself from the memory. I don't like what my father did. It reminds me too much of my cousin. He was a bully and I'm not proud of that, but do you really have to take out your anger on me? I've done nothing to deserve it, though that's the case with most issues in my life. Do you hear students around Hogwarts laughing and pointing in your direction over the memory? Because if I had told Ron and Hermione, I'd guarantee that within the next few hours, the entire school would know of your humiliation. Your memories are private, I'd never tell anyone. Hell, remove my memory of the event if you're sceptical! I might not like you sir, but I respect you. That's all I have to say. It's up to you if you believe me or not.”

 

Winded and defeated, Harry flushed red, sank to the floor, arms around his knees. His sadness shroud was back, he could sense it. If he didn't go back to Gryffindor tower soon, he might break down. He really didn't want to in front of Snape, of all people. He'd already said too much. Even though what he shared would probably be used against him, Harry felt...better somehow. To try to prevent tears from falling, he silently berated himself.

 

_'Stupid freak, why did you tell him that, you're in for it now. The Dursleys will find out and you'll be done for. Not supposed to tell about what happens in the house. Stupid.weak. Uncle Vernon's going to kill me-'_

 

His name was being shouted. He snapped out of thought.

 

“Potter? POTTER!”

 

Harry jerked as if slapped. His head still between his knees, He answered shakily.

 

“Y-yes?”

 

A firm hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He raised his arms defensively. Normally, he wouldn't be so vulnerable but after he'd let his mind wander to the consequences of what would happen at 'home', he couldn't help himself.

 

The hand remained on his shoulder.

 

“Look at me Potter.”

 

Obeying, Harry peeked at Snape through his eyelashes, startled to find how close he actually was.

 

Snape was crouched before him, maintaining eye contact with Harry. He found he couldn't look away.

 

Snape's eyes softened. Not noticeably to someone who didn't know the man. Though they may be the worst of enemies, Harry knew Snape better than most, except Dumbledore. Harry was confused and further surprised when Snape spoke. Was his tone gentler somehow? Perhaps he did bang his head on the railing and now he was dreaming.

 

“Potter...” Snape stopped. He seemed to be in deep thought. His brow furrowed a little. Pinching the bridge of his nose and looking back at him, he continued.

 

“What you've told me today leads me to believe that you are none of the things which I have accused you of. It seems that I have misunderstood you greatly since the day you first walked into my potions class. The fact that you have sincerely apologised to me indicates that you're nothing like your father. He would rather be tortured than willingly apologise. I accept your apology. Furthermore,” Snape cleared his throat a little, looking rather awkward. “I would like to offer an apology of my own.”

 

Yes, it was official, Harry had bashed his head off the railing so hard, he was hallucinating an apologetic Snape. Right? Right? To hell with giving Snape an excuse to reserve a bed in St Mungos, he'll go book himself in now! But he looked to be serious. Harry was floored.

 

“5 years will not erase the damage done. I've fueled the fire and set the path, so to speak. After what has been revealed today, I find that I can't hate you. I would like to offer a...truce of sorts.”

 

He removed his hand from Harry's shoulder, only to offer it him for a help up.

 

 _'Snape, no professor Snape,'_ Harry corrected himself, _'He deserves that much in my head with the olive branch_ he'd _handing me. He must be serious! I'll accept.'_

 

Harry, in turn, offered his hand. Snape grasped it and pulled Harry to stand on his feet.

 

Harry released Snape's hand. He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

 

“I accept. You're right. I can't instantly forgive you, but I think we can start over and see where it takes us. So, in that case-”

 

Harry offered his hand to shake.

 

“Hello, I'm Harry Potter, current 5th-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, boy wonder extraordinaire. Pleasure to meet you!” He dared a slight grin.

 

Snape smiled. Almost. Wouldn't want to frighten the darling students or start an apocalypse now, would we?

 

“Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, resident snarky bastard-” Harry stifled a snort unsuccessfully. ”likewise.”

 

They shook hands firmly.

 

Harry quirked his lip. ”If only the students could see us now. Surely the world has ended. Professor Snape and Harry Potter shaking hands? No! Shock! Horror!”

 

Casting amused eyes upon Harry, he suddenly turned serious. ”Potter, I'm sure you know that we have to keep up appearances for the sake of students such as Draco Malfoy?” Harry nodded. ”Alone, however, we are free to interact as we wish. Silencing charms among other wards are cast in this area so our conversation has gone both unnoticed and unheard” Snape added,”You don't need a mask any longer with me potter, my eyes have been opened to the truth which was right under my nose. I want to see you.”

 

Hope, relief and doubt were the first emotions Harry could pin. Was he serious? His eyes filled with a sheen of tears.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Harry choked with emotion. ”That means more than you'll ever know.”

 

“You're welcome Potter.”

 

“Harry.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“When we're alone call me Harry sir. We have a truce. I'd prefer it if you don't mind. I'll still call you sir, sir.”

 

“Very well...Harry.”

 

Harry smile reached his eyes. He glanced at his wrist watch. _'9:45?! McGonagall's going to have a kitten!'_

 

Panicking, Harry spoke to Snape.

 

“Professor, I need to get back, curfew is in 15 minutes, I didn't realise the time!”

 

Snape held out a hand to stop him. “Relax Po-Harry, your head of house and the Headmaster knows you're with me”

 

Harry sagged visibly with relief.

 

“Thank you, sir, I should be heading back, though.”

 

Snape nodded. “Before you leave...Your Occlumency shields are...adequate. I was informed by The Headmaster of your sudden progress and his experience” His eyes glittered with amusement. ”I did wonder why he choked.I checked them myself. I couldn't pick up on a single memory from all the noise. Well done. As for your voice, you have strong vocals.”

 

He offered a spare thought. “Lily used to sing. You're like your mother.”

 

_'Adequate? Well, Done? From Snape, that's like you've won a gold medal in everything! As for myself and my mother...I know something about her finally! Wow if that's not an indication things are going to change, then I don't know what is!'_

 

Harry blushed profusely. ”T-Thank you sir.Goodnight.” Harry moved toward the staircase, giving a brief wave.

 

“Goodnight Harry” Snape saw him off.

 

He removed the wards placed on the astronomy tower. Waiting a few minutes, he strode off to his office, robes billowing. Resuming the usual position behind his desk, a whisper was carried upon the gentle breeze.

 

“10 points to Gryffindor for proving a snarky bastard wrong.”

 

The air seemed warmer, cleaner, sanctified. Hogwarts was Happy. She had done her job helping the two people in the most need. Perhaps they could heal each other, with time. She resumed silently watching over her charges.

 

Come Friday morning, Gryffindor students would look to their hourglass. Sharing confused glances, they'd see the crystals slightly raised, though everyone was in The Great Hall and received no awarding of points. Only one man in the room would know the truth and he wasn't sharing.

 

 _'Severus Snape, Potions Master and most notoriously hated professor, awarding points to Gryffindor, to Harry Potter no less?'_   Snape smirked, spearing an egg on his fork. _'Surely, the world has come to an end.'_

 

Downing his pumpkin juice, Harry glanced at the head table. He locked eyes with Snape, who gave an imperceptible nod, which Harry returned.

 

“Yes,” Harry spoke aloud, startling Ron and Hermione, ”This is one fresh start in my life that I'm honestly looking forward to.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are curious or don't know,the lyrics are from a song called Melancholy,by an American heavy metal band, Iced Earth.  
> Amon Amarth are a Swedish melodic death metal band,known for their growl vocals.  
> I love both bands and thought that I'd love to include one or two.I wanted a musical fic in general really.It was experimentation on my part,with two things I'm passionate about-Music and Harry Potter! Let me know if it was successful or not!


End file.
